Outside, Looking In
by rebelbridgeburner10
Summary: A look at the relationship between Shepard and Tali throughout the three games. Mostly from Tali's view but will probably feature other characters as well.
1. Chapter 1

All the usual disclaimers. The world and it's wonderful characters are the sole property of bioware and ea. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.  
This will be my attempt at following the story of Shepard and Tali from throughout the complete series. And maybe beyond. Any mistakes, liberties, or iconsistencies are mine and mine alone. For some reason I have decided to take a crack at two characters I know the least about. I'll be playing my first MaleShep/Tali as a write.

* * *

The Citadel. The capital of galactic life. She has dreamed of coming here for as long as she can remember.

The first thing that Tali'Zorah nar Rayya notices is the noise. A steady hum of voices that she cannot separate. A delay as her translator tries to catch them all.

The second thing is all the color. The variety of shades. Her vision like one who has been in a dark room suddenly illuminated. Blinded.

Life in the fleet is about functionality. Usefulness. All value judged soley on how it will serve the community, even those few luxuries deemed frivolous are allowed with a clear pupose in mind.

But here even the lights are colorful. Bright and plentiful. Lighting on the flotilla is designated by level of importance. And is never something to waste.

And the aliens. Among the quarians she had led a somewhat sheltered life. A few asari. Some salarians. Turians. She had watched the vids before leaving but nothing could've prepared her for the actuality.

All the faces, seemingly so naked. The deafening expressions.

A scream. She reaches for her shotgun. But when she turns toward the sound she pauses. Unsure.

A human female has jumped into the arms of a male. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Arms around his neck. His bags dropped forgotten at his feet. He spins as she laughs. And then…

Tali looks away. Shocked. How can even humans put that which should be private on display?

But it's not only them, she tries not to stare, even though the action is hidden by her mask, at an asari giving her partner a tearful goodbye. A turian male who seems one part embarrassed, one part pleased.

What must it be like, she wonders, wearing your emotions outside for anyone to see?

* * *

C-Sec. The police force of The Citadel. Avoid them at all cost, she had been warned.

Tali notices the suspicious looks. Some glances. Some stares. Some nervous. Others fearful. More than a few hostile.

At least one leer that travels the length of her body.

She knows the reputation of her people. Thieves and criminals. Vagabonds.

She keeps her hands to her sides, her head down, and quickly walks through.

* * *

The Presidium.

She knows at one glance that she doesn't belong up here. Not sure she even wants to.

Rannoch. Tali looks up at the engineered blue sky and the orchestrated clouds. The trees lining her path. Their leaves a green she has never seen in life. At once it is the most foreign and beautiful sight she has ever witnessed. Is this what we lost, she questions.

Everything is so clean. And new. And for the first time in remembrance she feels dirty. Like a trespasser.

It is either quieter up here or it has gotten easier to decipher the noises coming from her translator. Each separate melody combining into one harmonic symphony.

She enjoys listening to each private moment, eavesdropping on worlds she knows little of.

She finds an empty spot to lean against the railing and just looks out at the artificial lake. It is the most wasteful thing she has yet seen. To her people water is more precious than credits and jewels. Arguably more valuable than ships and fuel. She longs to feel it. To take off her gloves and dip the naked skin of her hands into it's wealth.

This is a dangerous place, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya.

* * *

She knows better than to enter but she cannot ignore the siren's call.

The bright colored plumage seeming to taunt her.

She tries to ignore the customers who move out of her way. Who clutch their hand bags and wallets as she walks past. She pretends not to notice the asari sales woman who follows her path with her eyes. She turns a deaf ear to the whispered comments.

She is drawn to a stand of articles that confuses her as to their pupose. Made from the same materials of the dresses in the display in front but much more simple. Some nothing more than a single swatch. She can see no reason in these items, other than their prettiness.

She touches one of the garments with her covered hand but she cannot feel it of course. She can only imagine the softness. The way that when worn it must feel less than a second skin. Her quarian armor has never felt so heavy. So restricting.

* * *

It is the music that guides her steps.

The flotilla knows music, knows dancing. But nothing like this. Even in a celebratory mood the quarian people never completely abandon their control. They cannot. Safety must always come first when a pucntured suit can lead to death. The dancers seem to have no care for appearance, for decorum. It is captivating.

Their laughter, humming, and singing accompany the scene.

Their body language conveying only non sense.

Her eyes fall upon two humans sitting alone at one of the tables. Two females. They are clearly close. Friends? Sisters? Lovers? As they speak, as they laugh, to each other they touch each other with small unconscious gestures, on the hand, on the arm, against bare skin. They don't even seem to notice. Taking for granted this minute sign of intimacy.

One takes a bite of her meal and saying something to her companion offers a spoonful to the other.

Tali feels equal parts disgust and jealousy.

She checks her Omni Tool. Almost time for the meeting with her contact and then maybe she can leave this all too alluring world behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Less than a month on her Pilgrimage and she's already failed.

At first she hadn't realized what had happened. Where the sudden blow had come from. What it had entailed. The danger she had blindly allowed access.

She turned. The image taking a moment to connect to her brain. Frozen in the sights of the two rifles pointed her way. The two turians behind them blurry in a haze of panic.

She doesn't reach for her shotgun. Doesn't even remember having it until she has been running for what seems like hours but is probably only a few minutes.

All of her training. All the preparation. Nothing. A waste. A failure. So stupid.

And it is only when she stops that she feels the pain. And the fear sets in.

She will become one of the lost. Forgotten. Those who leave the fleet never to return. Her father will never know what happened to her. Her life purged as though she never was, stricken from the memories of the quarian people. It will be a crime to mention her. A sin to remember her.

A nameless statistic on the Citadel. No one to care. Another quarian no one wanted. Another beggar off the streets. A curiosity for the ones who find her. Her body desecrated.

She feels far from home, far from any comfort, any familiarity, and feels as though she will never know such things again. Feels as though those things had been a dream.

* * *

Tali knows she cannot actually feel them. That the crawling itch on the back of her shoulder are not germs and disease burrowing their way into their new home like bugs. She knows scratching the area will make it worse. That they cannot be dug out by this means.

She also knows time is running down.

She finds the lift. Entering behind an asari mother and her young daughter. Even through the pain to her body she feels the ache to her soul when the asari takes her daughter by the hand and exits at the sight of the injured quarian. Her body language accusatory as though how dare Tali expose her daughter to the vision of her.

She removes the uselessly frayed section of her suit at the shoulder, unfolds a piece from underneath and seals the patch shut. A temporary solution, the damage already done. Hands sticky with her own blood.

* * *

She wants to punch the smile off of the receptionist. She wants to scream. To cry. To just see home again. Her father.

The woman repeats a name. A destination. "Dr. Chloe Michel."

Too weak. Too exhausted. Too despondent to move.

She misses the motion of the human woman calling over the turian C-Sec guard at the door.

Tali almost faints with the pain as he grabs her by her injured arm and drags her away.

Doesn't fight when he throws her to the ground and walks back to his post beside the sign that reads, Huerta Memorial Hospital, best care in the galaxy.

* * *

Why do you bother Tali'Zorah nar Rayya?

Why expect any kindness from this place?

From this exquisite space of sufferance.

She stops before the door of the clinic.

Taking a hopeful pause before inevitable disappointment.

* * *

The young human female looks up at the sound of someone entering her clinic. Tali watches as her emotions flicker across her face before she can control them. They are difficult for her to interpret. But she can decipher the movements of her body. Slight as they are. Surprise, a small jerk and step back. Curiosity, head tilted to the side eying the potential patient. Sympathy, a minute reaching out of a hand as though wanting to give aid. Tali lets out a breath she didn't know she held.

"I need help," her voice sounds strange to her ears. "I've been, " she pauses. Untrustful. Uncertain. "I've been shot. It's not bad. At least I don't think it's bad. It doesn't hurt. Not bad. But it needs to be cleaned." But she's lying. It does hurt. Waves of sharp pain. Burning heat. The fabric of her suit rubbing against her raw skin.

The woman is just watching and hasn't moved past standing up from the desk.

"I can do it myself but I need the equipment." She looks around. The clinic doesn't look equipped to deal with quarians, or much of anyone or anything really.

"Yes, yes, of course." She shakes her head as though in confusion of her own thoughts. "I mean no. I cannot allow you to treat yourself. Come. Let me fix you up." Her touch gentle she takes Tali's uninjured side and guides her toward the back. Guides her to sit down on a cot. She looks where the wound is obviously covered. The blood showing through garishly blue in the overhead lights. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me how this happened."

As strange as the woman appears to her Tali is reminded of dreams of her mother. And for the first time since leaving the fleet she can almost allow herself to feel safe. But she cannot tell her the truth. "I didn't, I don't know who it was."

She comes back around. "Um, can you, " the doctor pauses, face blushing a light red. She makes a motion toward the wounded area.

Panic. An urge to run again.

The doctor stands still. Silent. Waiting. As though knowing the importance of the moment. The reason for the hesitation.

Tali can sense apprehension in her stance. But it's different than the alarm that she has thus far witnessed in this alien world.

In stillness the doctor's face is not so different than her own. All the features in the right place if a bit deviant in form.

She finds the other woman's red hair appealing. The defect in her eyes a beautiful shade of green. Almost the shade of ocean water, never seen outside of a vid.

She decides to trust. Nimbly she pulls back the section of suit that hides the injury. She tries not to think of the implications. The taboos she is breaking.

She watches as the human collects her equipment together. A syringe. Bottle. Tissues. Bandages. Quarian brand Omni Gel. Everything covered in hygienic plastic wrap. She places the items on a metal tray that she carries to the bed.

Tali finds herself drawn to her hands as they work. They are ugly things. Crowded with too many fingers. Skinny digits that reminds Tali of the engine worms that are the bane of many quarian ships. They are even the same color.

It is with no small relief when she sees the doctor place surgical gloves over them.

The woman laughs. Nervously. "I don't even know your name."

"Tali. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya." It is only after that she wonders if she should've given her real name.

"That's a beautiful name. You can call me Chloe." Dr. Michel holds out her hand.

Tali looks down. She knows this but for the moment cannot think of what this means. What is expected of her. Even concealed the hand looks ungainly. Unwieldy. She does not wish to touch it even both protected as they are. She's not even sure she wants it to touch her. But she senses that is what is expected of her.

She holds out her own hand. Michel takes it in brief contact.

"Okay, Tali. The injury doesn't look bad. You were lucky, it's not deep. It must have just been a fluke concussive round. What I'm going to do is disinfect the area and give an antibacterial shot. If you keep it covered until the skin grows over you should heal fine." She steps out of sight. "So Tali, how are you liking the station? How long are planning to stay?"

A mist of cold covers the fever of her back. She remains silent.

"I know you're in some kind of trouble. And I know you're not going to tell me what it is. But I want to help. If there anything I can do for you…"

Is she just being nice, or is she mining for information. And if the later, why and for who.

If she doesn't ask her, than who can she?  
If not now, then when?  
One can only function on fear for so long.

Tali takes a deep breath and begins to speak before she changes her mind.


End file.
